Cat Scratch Fever
by IronAmerica
Summary: Miles' nephew worries him sometimes.


It's a new story! Miles thinks on his nephew, and is worried.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Cat Scratch Fever

Miles' nephew reminds him of a cat.

Not a nice, pampered housecat either. Danny worries Miles, and that's saying something. He's founded the Republic, been the leader of their military, and his eighteen-year-old nephew worries him. He's like a cat—one of the predators, like a tiger…or a panther. You don't see either of them coming, and don't notice that they're there until they rip your guts out. They smile as you lie writhing on the ground, and eat you without a shred of remorse.

So, yes, Danny worries Miles.

Miles barely knows his nephew now. He remembers bouncing a one-year-old Danny on his knee, smiling as the baby laughed and clapped chubby hands together. The man remembers Danny chewing on his hair when Miles held him on his shoulders. He kind of misses that kid. It's unsettling, watching this panther-child that's replaced the happy, exuberant baby he remembers.

If not for his capture, Miles is pretty sure he'd never have known what Danny had turned into. The boy is devoted to Bass, which is almost as terrifying as the cat-like qualities he exhibits. Miles remembers, all too clearly, the hungry look in Danny's eyes as Bass rubbed his fingers along the teen's cheek. He remembers how Danny didn't even hesitate before shooting his sister.

It was probably family loyalty that made Danny wound his sister, rather than kill her. Bass' smirk before he follows the teen out of the room says more then Miles would like to know.

When he sees the boy again, Danny's dressed in black. He's got that hungry, predatory-cat look in his eyes again, and Bass is whispering in the kid's ear. Miles thinks that Ba—Monroe, not Bass, not anymore—is giving the boy instructions to kill someone. Not, as it turns out. But Danny slinks out of the room with catlike grace, completely unlike the young man Charlie had described with such affection during their trip to Philadelphia. Not like that young man at all…

The image of a panther is reinforced when, as he's being escorted back to his cell from an interrogation, Danny crosses his path. He's licking blood off a knife, and eyeing the man he has pressed against a wall like a cat would eye a mouse. Miles can't resist as he's dragged away; the image of Father Nicholas's cut-up face burned into his mind. He falls asleep with the image of Danny licking blood off the rebel's face and laughing as the man calls him an animal.

Miles promises to himself that he'll put the animal his nephew has become down. There is _no_ way he'll let Danny near his sister, who's still so innocent even after what's happened to her in the past few months. He wishes he didn't have to kill Danny, because he still remembers how cheerful his nephew had been as a baby. He remembers Rachel's stories of how brave Danny was when, at the age of six, he had his first asthma attack. Danny, according to Rachel, never panicked. He cried, but was so silent and still and listened to what Ben told him to do while his little chest convulsed and tears tracked down his cheeks because he couldn't breathe. (Miles _still_ thinks that the story is creepy, but it goes a long way towards explaining the sociopath Danny's turned into.)

The former general has to revise his opinion of Danny the next time he sees the kid. Danny's naked and facedown on the floor, whimpering and sobbing silently as Bass brings a belt down on his back. Danny's not a panther at that point. He's not even a tiger. He's a pathetic, broken stray, being beaten for no reason in particular.

Miles watches in horror and dawning realization as Danny crawls over to Bass after the beating is done, mewling and begging for forgiveness. The boy buries his face in Bass's side, arms wrapped around the older man's waist. Blood is dripping down his back from the cuts, and Miles can see the welts forming. Tiny silver scars tell him that this isn't the first time Danny's been so horribly beaten by the man he'd once called a friend.

Bass shoves Danny away, and the teen curls up in a ball, crying like a weak, half-drowned kitten. Miles tests the restraints around his wrists and ankles, wishing he could free himself so he could beat the tar out of Monroe. Monroe ignores the pathetic figure Danny makes and steps over him so he can sit on the chair in front of Miles.

The president of the republic is far too gleeful about how Danny will do anything. He's quiet, though, as if he doesn't want the teen to hear. Miles would call him out on this, but he's got a rag stuffed in his mouth and a strip of duct tape is preventing him from spitting it out. All he can do is wriggle in his restraints and make angry grunts as Bass gloats.

Miles' blood boils as Bass calls Danny over. He clenches his hands into fists and imagines beating Monroe to within an inch of his life. Monroe's too busy crooning something gentle as he cups Danny's upturned face in his hands, too busy explaining whatever half-baked lesson Danny is supposed to learn.

Danny smiles, and it's like the sun has come out unexpectedly after a week of horrific storms. He rubs his head against Bass' hands, and the panther is back, purring and pleased.

Stockholm Syndrome. Miles focuses on that after he's back in his cell. Ten months for Bass to break down Danny's defenses and remold him into something else. Miles can only focus on the idea that, in ten months, he lost his nephew and Bass turned the poor kid into some…some _puppet_, and Danny doesn't even realize what's happened.

The panther that Miles first saw when his nephew licked the blood off Father Nicholas' face is no longer proud, strong, or sadistic. It's a sad, pathetic kitten, pulled off the streets. Danny lives in luxury and Bass will give him anything he wants, but that promise is too fragile to last for long. That kitten fluffs its' tail up and hisses, trying to be a big, mean tomcat, but…

Miles buries his face in his hands and sobs. He's breaking, because he knows there's no way to fix his nephew. Danny's too far gone, too much Bass' plaything.

There's no panther there; there's just a sad, beaten kitten mewling for approval.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Want to help Miles kill Bass, or cuddle Danny? Drop a line and let me know.

Author's note: This is a sequel to Wild Horses and my first story in Miles' pov.


End file.
